


The Time Traveler's Husband

by ArtForRogue



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Birthday Boy Shiro, Birthday Sex, Blow Jobs, Divorced Shiro (Voltron), Jealous Shiro (Voltron), M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Shiro (Voltron), Past Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:47:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22960426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtForRogue/pseuds/ArtForRogue
Summary: “Why do you look like you’re waiting for something to happen?” Keith finally asked with a faint huff, clearly amused by whatever expression Shiro was making. He was still so close Shiro could feel every faint puff of breath on his skin and the lingering heat that came of it.Shiro felt as though he was engulfed in flames.“I thought you were going to kiss me.”Or, where Keith accidentally sends Shiro back in time.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 83





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/FormSheith)  
> Thanks as always to Cori for being an amazing beta! <3

Shiro thought he was too old for surprise birthday parties, but hey -- you only turn eight once. His friends had the same roaring sentiment, judging by the surplus alcohol, sugary foods, and multi-colored balloons crowded in his two-bedroom apartment. It was a saccharine sight but Shiro appreciated the crowd of friendly faces more than the material things.

Cheers greeted Shiro as he opened his door, loud and boisterous, ignorant to the plight of any of his apartment neighbors, and Shiro couldn’t help but smile in turn. Someone threw confetti too, blinding Shiro in a rainbow of colors as he was led inside towards the festivities. 

“Happy birthday!” Matt and Pidge were the first to get their hands on Shiro, both set of fists spotted with little reminders of the confetti they had thrown earlier. While Shiro sputtered out his thanks, Matt placed a little party hat on Shiro’s head and clipped it in place in his silver hair. 

“How does it feel to be eight, champ?” Pidge laughed, clearly caught in the revelry of the party. 

“Thanks guys.” Shiro was quick to pull Pidge into a hug, holding onto the squirming woman as long as he could to give proper thanks before she managed to duck out from under his grasp. “You sure know how to make a guy feel special.” Last year had been a more muted affair, but it seemed everyone thought to show up this time since it was an actual leap year, with Shiro actually able to celebrate his day of birth. “Who arranged all this?” 

“I want to take all the credit,” Matt sighed dramatically, “but I can’t. Your other best friend was paramount to getting this put together.” 

The fact that Keith had helped made Shiro grin all the wider. He wasn’t the least bit subtle as he turned to look about the room for Keith, making Matt sigh even more. 

“He’s not here yet, loverboy. Last he texted me, his plane got delayed two hours.” 

What was once a surprising, wonderful party now felt dim. Shiro didn’t even bother to hide his pout. “Don’t give me that look,” Matt scolded with a point of his finger to table laid out in the center of the apartment, “I got you the best dinosaur cake available in this dingy town, so you can hold on till Keith gets here.” 

Shiro felt more confident about upholding that promise once equipped with a beer. He bounced from person to person until there was no one left to greet, then gave in to what he really wanted and went for the cake. It looked hand-made and well crafted, but it was still a dinosaur cake meant for a child. Shiro unapologetically pulled up one of the sugar dinosaur decorations and ate it before grabbing another beer. 

Matt really had gone the whole nine-yards for this -- besides the wealth of food and drink, Shiro recognized friends from both work and school, thankfully all mingling together easily enough. Plenty of people were vying for his attention, which Shiro was happy to give, but there was really only one person Shiro ever cared to spend these kinds of celebrations with. 

When the door opened an hour in, Shiro forgot to politely excuse himself from his conversation with Romelle before turning on his heel. Just as he thought, Keith stood in the front entrance, covered in head-to-toe black ruined by a slight dusting of white snow. 

He grinned when he saw Shiro and dropped both his suitcase and bagged present when Shiro pressed forward for a rib-crushing hug. 

“You made it.” Shiro murmured with glee into the fluff of Keith’s beanie.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Keith promised in return, his warm breath tickling the curve of Shiro’s neck. They remained like that for a touch too long, soaking in each other’s presence, parting only when Keith finally remembered he was covered in snow and inadvertently soaking Shiro with whatever melted off. 

“Sorry,” Keith laughed nervously as he finally started to toss his layers, dumping them at the entryway without a care in the world, “I forgot what the weather was like here.” What Keith wore was probably the only pair of winter clothing he had left since moving back home to Arizona. The jacket was old, a size too small, and worn enough that it wasn’t even waterproof anymore; but Shiro remembered giving it to Keith their freshman year of college, despite that being ages past. 

Shiro bent to hang the jacket and shook his head fondly once Keith was less obscenely bundled. “Means you’ve been gone too long.” 

“Yeah.” Keith shrugged, his smile coy, and turned to look at the party. None of it had died down in Shiro’s absence, though a few souls were starting to look a bit lost. “You’ve really done up the place since last time.” 

Not a hard accomplishment since the last time Keith had visited was two years ago when the apartment had been new to Shiro and his once-again bachelor mentality. Shiro had been such a mess, he hadn’t even had a full set of utensils until Allura gifted them at his later thrown ‘Divorce Party’. There were now pictures on the walls, furniture to fill the room, and a freshly adopted cat to make everything feel more homely. 

Still, something felt like it was missing. 

Someone, maybe. 

Shiro flashed Keith a smile at the praise and motioned to the table. “Want a beer?”

“God, yeah.”

Keith’s flight up north had been fraught with issues. Normally the four hour flight wasn’t anything to get worked up over, but judging from the way Keith was pounding back shot after shot, Shiro had to guess the ‘simple delay’ was something a bit more complicated. With enough goading, Shiro joined his friend in stupid, untethered drinking to the sound of cheering from the other guests. 

For a brief moment Shiro was reminded of their frat days when everything seemed as simple as nursing a hangover and studying in the quad, with Keith right at his side. 

The room was starting to tilt before long, so a Shiro excused himself to the outside patio with Keith hot on his heels. They bumped against one another, laughing softly at nothing and leaning against the railing like it was going out of fashion. 

“You having fun?” Keith asked, his head tilted up to watch the sun set. He looked positively aglow in this soft marigold light, as pretty as a mosaic reflecting its colors from a church window. Shiro felt dumbstruck with his power until Keith turned to look at him, puzzled by his silence. 

“Yeah,” Shiro answered weakly, “yeah, of course I am.”

“There’s nothing certain about this kind of thing, Shiro.” Keith said. “All you’ve done is talk to me and do shots. Seems to me you’re avoiding everyone else.” 

The accuracy of it meant Shiro didn’t even have to bother confirming Keith’s guess. “Maybe. Doesn’t the birthday boy get to decide how he wants to spend his birthday?” When Keith just laughed and tilted his head back, jaw aflame with the sunset’s light, Shiro pressed on in a rush, saying, “I’ve missed you. Missed this. I’m not avoiding everyone — I just want to spend time with you.”

Keith smiled at that, clearly delighted with Shiro’s answer. He sighed, almost mournful, and turned back to look at the setting sun. “Yeah?”

“It’s been so long, Keith.” Shiro murmured as he leaned further against the railing. If Keith wasn’t there he’d be worried about the protesting squeak of the metal, but...well, Keith would always save him. Even from a drunken fall on his birthday into the ravine below. 

“Long enough for you to be over what’s-his-name?” The tone was teasing, fun, but the malice underneath startled Shiro into looking down at his hands and the pale circle around his ring finger. 

Even with all that Curtis had put Shiro through, he didn’t deserve that. Shiro flexed his hands as he said, “Curtis and I split mutually.” 

But that wasn’t enough for Keith. It hadn’t been enough at the onset of the breakup and it wasn’t enough now. “I’m trying to get back into dating, back home.” Keith deflected lamely, maybe ashamed of how callous he had been. “I’ve been trying to use your pointers but I just feel old against the bar scene.” 

The fact that Keith was using his tricks made the jealousy that bubbled up all the more sour. Shiro leaned back from the railing and fixed Keith with a gaze he refused to return. 

Shiro would never be able to move on from Curtis because he never loved him in the first place. 

It had been, and always would be, _Keith_. 

There wasn’t any one event that made Shiro realize his feelings weren’t platonic. It had been a point of contention between him and Curtis since the beginning, though, even if Shiro denied it at first. Of course friends shared secrets. Of course they texted everyday. Of course they would wear each other’s dog tags — would call each other in the middle of the night when the nightmares became too much. Shiro never thought much of it because Keith was always there. 

But then he moved back home to help his family with their shop, and those daily texts dwindled to weekly. Bi-weekly. Monthly. They were both busy in their own way and Shiro forced himself to be content with it. 

He didn’t see Keith again until the wedding. 

God, the wedding. 

The wedding, where Keith wore a tuxedo that looked like he had been sewn into the soft black fabric, where Keith agreed to dance with Shiro, and as they swayed together Shiro closed his eyes and imagined that he had married Keith instead. 

Therapy wasn’t even an option at that point. 

A better man would have ended things at the beginning - but Shiro loved misery, clearly. He took his newly-named affection and buried it down deep until the day came when even Curtis couldn’t ignore it anymore. It was a small blessing that the divorce was uncomplicated and mutually supported. Even then, Shiro sold the house and moved across the city to avoid the ghost of his failure. 

Keith had arrived at the divorce party, taken one look around the bare apartment, and left without a single word only to return an hour later with a bottle of wine in each hand. There was already plenty of alcohol at the party but these two bottles were the ones Shiro kept on top of the fridge as a momento. 

_“You’re like a brother to me,”_ Keith had said that night, so many years ago, _“I’ll always be here for you.”_

_“I love you.”_

Dusk crept up on them as Keith stumbled through more of his dating blunders. Shiro thought for a moment to ask Keith to move inside, but the revelry of the party didn’t appeal compared to the cool breeze and Keith’s singular attention. 

His jealousy cooled with the night until he found himself relaxing against the railing again and offering, “Don’t worry about how long it might take. You’ll find someone good, Keith.”

Keith’s laugh was nervous, vulnerable. “How do you know?” 

“Because - you’re you.” Shiro stammered. “Good deserves good so far as I see it.” 

“Wow. Poetic.” Keith relaxed at that, even offering up a short bark of a laugh. Shiro found himself melting as the warmth of familiarity settled back between them, ever charmed by the rarity of Keith’s smile. “Besides, your logic is flawed,” Keith waved his hand lazily in Shiro’s direction before murmuring, “I’m a fucking coward.” 

These mood-swings were blindsiding, making it difficult for Shiro to do more than frown and fumble for the right words. “Keith.” 

Keith laughed again and pushed back from the railing for the first time, anger tinting his motions into something warped that Shiro didn’t recognize. This self-loathing was an old flavor for Keith, something that hadn’t been seen since they were college-bound, PTSD-riddled ex-soldiers struggling to acclimate to civilian life. 

“Whatever scares you - you’re not a coward.” Shiro insisted, finally finding his footing again in the turbulent current of Keith’s emotions. He reached forward and pressed his hand to Keith’s shoulder to ground them both. “You’re the bravest man I know.” 

“That’s not true.” Keith mumbled. His face turned from Shiro, but even then he could see the hint of a smile, fond and shy in two-parts. 

“Who followed me into the Air Force without a single question?” The first question was an easy one; Keith finally cracked with a chuckle before turning to look at Shiro, his face split with an easy smile. “Who dove into enemy territory against orders to drag me from my burning plane?” 

The example fell from Shiro’s lips so easily -- the Shiro from years past wouldn’t even be able to mention the fall, much less keep his smile through it. Keith’s eyes skimmed over his face, noting that his ease was true, and fell into line with Shiro. 

“I did.” Keith announced with a hint of pride. 

“I’ve got more examples, Kogane.” Shiro pretended to threaten, just to see Keith duck his head and laugh. “You need me to keep telling you how brave you are?” 

“I mean,” Keith said around his smile, “it doesn’t hurt.” 

Shiro would happily sing Keith’s praises the entire night, if only the man would let him. But after dredging up their questionable choices during their college-days, Keith finally begged Shiro to stop. There were tears from laughter in both their eyes, though Keith had yet to stop wheezing after Shiro’s recount of the infamous ‘Body-Paint Purge’. 

Having forgotten to turn on the back porch light before they left the party, and with the hour as late as it was now, both Shiro and Keith stood in darkness illuminated only by the faint light from the windows. It was just enough to see Keith wiping away his tears, still smiling, and not much else. Shiro had dropped his hand from Keith’s shoulder to more accurately hand-wave his enthusiasm into the stories, but now that it was quiet again he placed his hand to Keith’s lower back as a gentle reminder. 

“You know how to make a man feel special.” Keith finally said. He leaned into the palm of his hand to look up at Shiro, ankles crossed as he shifted from hip-to-hip. 

Shiro could feel the ache in his limbs too. How long had they been outside now? Was anyone even still at the party, or had they all gone home with the birthday boy himself missing? So long as there was leftover cake, Shiro found he really didn’t care. 

But his quick glance towards the patio door must have been too obvious -- Keith made a small sound in the back of his throat before suggesting, “Should we go inside?” 

“No, I uh -” Shiro struggled to find a reason for them to continue their private conversation. They had effectively caught up, really, and the buzz from the earlier shots was worn down enough that Shiro ached for another beer in hand. Still, he didn’t want to go inside. 

Keith shushed Shiro’s stammer with a fond shake of his head. “I love you, but you’re kind of selfish, Shiro. There are other people here, you know.” 

Platonic or not, whenever Keith said those magic three words Shiro always felt like he would melt to the floor. This was no such exception, though the few drops of alcohol remaining in his system made Shiro press closer in the vain hope it would keep Keith from leaving him. “Just a few more minutes.” 

“As much time as you want, Shiro.” 

Now that they were huddled close, the conversation falling into its natural lull, Shiro could hear the others in the house. Of the few friends that remained, Shiro could pick out Allura, Pidge, Matt, Hunk, Rommelle, Lance...maybe a few more, further inside that were content just to watch what sounded like a game of Twister. 

Shiro listened to the laughter until he felt a squeeze against his arm and turned to Keith, who had moved into his shadow, between Shiro and the railing. 

“Shiro.” Keith started, voice impossibly quiet. 

“Keith.” Shiro prompted when Keith refused to continue. Though Keith was silent, he was not shying away - head tilted up to meet Shiro’s confused gaze, a certain kind of determination burning deep in his blue eyes. 

It really was amazing how brave Keith was. Though he might shy away from compliments for the rest of his life, nothing would deter Keith from taking what he wanted. Shiro thought this to himself moments before Keith leaned up and kissed him. 


	2. Chapter 2

“Maybe he had too much to drink?” 

“I’ve never seen him passed out like this before….someone grab a marker, quick.” 

“Let him breathe, guys.” Here Shiro felt himself being lifted gently from the floor and into someone’s strong arms that held him like some precious thing, his face pressed to yielding leather fabric. “Shiro? Shiro, hey, can you hear me?” 

“Keith…?” Trying to open his eyes sent a wave of nausea through Shiro so he kept them pressed shut, ill enough to ignore the knowing sigh from the group. 

“Of course he woke up to  _ Keith _ cradling him.” That was definitely Lance. Shiro grumbled at the dig until Keith leaned down and pressed his hand to Shiro’s forehead to check his temperature. The feel of his leather gloves made Shiro flinch -- didn’t Keith lose those ages ago? 

Keith mistook the flinch for discomfort and immediately lowered his hand. “Someone get him water.”

“I’ll go.”

Shiro managed to crack his eyes open enough in time to see Allura scurry into the kitchen with Romelle on her heels. Even that made his vision swim, reminding him what an idiot he was to fight his nausea, so Shiro shut his eyes again with a groan. Fingers smoothed over his brow once more, but even Keith’s touch didn’t help. 

A glass of water later and Shiro felt well enough to sit up on his own and take in his surroundings. At first he thought the change in venue was a joke -- but when he smiled, ready for the joke to break, his friends only looked more worried. 

“Alright, very funny,” Shiro said, his voice still unsteady, “what did you guys do?” 

Because there was no other explanation for the suddenly youthful appearance of his friends and the stark change of location but a weird prank. The party  _ had  _ been organized by Matt so it only made sense there would be a Holt-sized caveat in the fun. 

But no one seemed to think this was very funny. 

“You passed out, Shiro.” Keith was the most notable change, dressed once more in his classic red leather jacket and biker gloves. The jacket was deemed too small years back and donated to Romelle and the gloves had been lost along with a whole case of luggage not long after. Shiro remembered this because he sat on the phone with Keith for an entire two hours listening to Keith rant about his shitty local airport after the bags had been deemed untrackable. 

Yet, here Keith sat, decked out in a look that Shiro still fantasized to on his weak-willed nights. 

“I fainted?” Shiro asked to a sea of nodding heads. It struck him as odd, first -- he wasn’t one to faint, especially after starting therapy bi-weekly. Alcohol didn’t knock him out like that either. But it was a party...he had been drinking, right? But that was beer -- Shiro felt a solo cup crushed in his right hand instead, all sharp shards of college-red, and looked down to see the mess he didn’t remember making. 

Attached to his arm was the first prosthetic prototype Shiro ever had. 

The design was cumbersome and heavy, itchy at his bicep where metal connected to frail, overworked nerves. Shiro hated that design with a passion and wasn’t sad to see it go when the next prototype rolled around from Altea Inc. 

Shiro traded in the prosthetic four years ago -- shortly after his 28th birthday. 

“Shiro?” Keith leaned forward to touch Shiro’s shoulder. Shiro was quick to give him a watery, but reassuring smile before looking at the cake on the table. 

Seven candles. 

“Who’s idea was it to give the seven-year-old alcohol, anyway?” Shiro asked. His terrible joke earned him some eye-rolls and groans, but everyone seemed to relax just a touch at the return to normalcy. 

“Do you need to go to the hospital?” Allura offered when Shiro shakily stood. He was quickly supported by Keith, one hand to his chest and the other around his waist. 

It was Keith who answered, saying quickly, “Let’s go.” 

Like there was no argument to be made -- Shiro’s health and safety always was the #1 priority with Keith. And Shiro wasn’t one to often say otherwise, but he didn’t want to rack up an unsavory hospital bill for something that couldn’t be explained by science just yet. 

He placed his hand over Keith’s and was quick to shake his head. When naeusea threatened to overwhelm Shiro for his stupid mistake, he spat out, “No hospital. I just -- I need to lay down. With some water. I’ll be fine.” 

“You’re sure?” Keith prodded one last time, looking up at Shiro from where he stood at his side. 

“Yes, Keith, I promise.” Shiro nodded before casting his gaze to the rest of his friends. There was no mistaking the changes he saw now that the room had stopped spinning and allowed Shiro to focus; every one of his friends resembled their past selves from four years prior. 

Allura’s hair was once more shoulder-length and her belly rounded by the soon-to-arrive twins. Lance was right beside her, protective even in this mundane hiccup, their wedding rings still shiny, new, and somewhat of a point of contention for Shiro. 

Beside them was Pidge and Hunk, unchanged for the most part except for the noticeable distance between them that would last for another few awkward months before the truth was announced and there’s another wedding to plan. 

It’s a smaller gathering than the party in the present. Romelle and Coran were out of town for some kind of convention, Krolia couldn’t make it, and Matt was still in active service. The only oddity is the pictures of Adam that Shiro still had yet to take down from the walls. 

Even though Shiro tried his best to look a little less shell-shocked, Pidge is the first to laugh nervously. “You look like you’ve woken up from a dream and you don’t like this side of reality.” 

“I don’t think,” Shiro murmured to himself, “my birthday wish came true.” 

***

Shiro drank another full glass of water before he heard Keith let out a sigh, and even then Shiro knew it was tinged with anxiety and not relief. “I’m fine, Keith.” Shiro’s attempt at consolation was futile, the fact punctuated by Keith’s answering snort, but he felt better for trying. “Go back to the others. I just need to lie down for a few minutes.” 

“I can wait here.” Keith sat at the edge of the bed by Shiro’s knee, the empty glass cradled in one hand and the other dangerously pressed to Shiro’s thigh. 

If the night would go as Shiro remembered, then they would share this bed tonight and absolutely nothing would come of it. They would both be drunk and sleepy, content to list closer for warmth until Shiro’s ill-timed alarm clock would snap the both of them awake in the morning with pounding hangovers. 

He never remembered anything like this. 

“I must have really looked like a mess to have you this worried.” As always, Shiro’s go-to during gloomy situations was his dry humor. He smiled just a touch to goad Keith along but his friend only frowned in response. 

“It wasn’t like your old seize-ups,” Keith admitted, “you were talking one moment and out the next.” 

Shiro’s metal hand immediately wrapped around his left wrist, a habit borne from times past when his stimulant wristbands were still useful. He hadn’t used them in years since the surgery but sometimes the phantom weight still rested against the skin and bone. 

“Thanks for catching me.” Shiro tried again, his humor finally landing well when Keith just smiled. 

“Anytime.” 

Shiro blushed under Keith’s intense gaze and was quick to lie back down to stave off the residual nausea, only to find Keith following him. 

“Um?” Shiro squeaked. It certainly wasn’t a manly noise that escaped him as Keith leaned in close and pressed the back of his hand to Shiro’s forehead. “Keith?” 

“You look red. And you feel kind of warm.” Immediately, Keith’s brow furrowed with concern. His hand slid from Shiro’s forehead to his cheek instead, the touch cool and grounding against the flaming blush of Shiro’s skin, but certainly not making the situation any better. 

“Yeah, well - I -” Shiro could only stammer as Keith near straddled him in an attempt to get a better check on his temperature, every collective nerve frying instantly when Keith pulled his glove off with his teeth and checked his forehead again. 

Shiro could only fall quiet as Keith moved his hand across the sharp cut of Shiro’s jaw, down his throat, then back up again to cup his cheek. 

“Why do you look like you’re waiting for something to happen?” Keith finally asked with a faint huff, clearly amused by whatever expression Shiro was making. He was still so close Shiro could feel every faint puff of breath on his skin and the lingering heat that came of it. 

Shiro felt as though he was engulfed in flames. 

“I thought you were going to kiss me.” 

Keith, young and unsure in his youth, hesitated. Shiro knew suddenly that if he had said this to his own Keith, in his own timeline, there would be no pause. Maybe that’s what he admired the most about Keith -- how much he had grown as a man, even in four short years. 

That being said, Keith sure kept hold of his love for grabbing Shiro by the shirt collar and yanking him up to kiss him senseless. 

Shiro found himself smiling against Keith’s lips, Keith answering in turn, awed by his reciprocated affections, and then promptly blacked out. 

***

Shiro’s sixth birthday was one of his least favorites and that was because it was the year Keith brought his boyfriend. 

As he remembered, the relationship didn’t last long - a few months, maybe a little longer - and Keith had been hesitant to even invite his boyfriend along. But Shiro had insisted on the grounds he was once more with Adam and happily secured in his own relationship. 

Regris was friendly, handsome, accomplished in his work, and Shiro absolutely fucking hated him the moment he stepped through the door. 

Reliving that birthday hadn’t been a concern for Shiro -- until now. 

He woke the morning of his sixth birthday with nausea that was manageable until he rolled over and saw Adam getting dressed. 

In their room. In their house. 

“Hey, morning.” Adam finished his last button before turning to Shiro, a friendly smile Shiro’s only warning before Adam leaned down to kiss his cheek. There was a touch of youth to him still, at this time, something that would eventually be lost to their breakup and separation. 

“Morning.” Shiro found himself answering. It wasn’t habit anymore to wake up to someone in his room, but Shiro didn’t want to give himself away. He coughed lightly when Adam gave him an odd look. “No one’s coming for awhile, right? You’re up so early.” 

“I wanted to go pick up your cake before it got busy.” Adam admitted with an easy shrug, “I left you some coffee.” 

Thank god there was no spark of affection left to flare to life. Shiro had long since forgotten his love for Adam, and even being sent back in time wouldn’t restore old feelings. Still, Shiro could be polite. “Thanks.” 

There were no words of affection as Adam left, and Shiro spent the rest of the morning wondering when exactly it was they broke up. It was a nice little distraction for what was happening -- at least for awhile. 

But this was a second jump, now. Shiro couldn’t wrap his head around it as he checked the date on every single clock and calendar he could get his hands on. 

February 29. Leap Day. Shiro’s birthday, too, though he was losing years with each blackout.

Because it helped, Shiro made a short list of what he knew thus far;

  1. Supposedly kissing Keith was sending him back in time
  2. His timeline was actively changing and possibly affecting the future  
and
  3. He was rapidly running out of birthdays



It felt absurd to hold a list of possibilities -- formerly known impossibilities, at that -- in his hands, but it was all Shiro had at the moment. 

_ Shiro [10:43 AM]: Hey, you’re coming to the party tonight, right? _

_ Keith [10:43 AM]: Of course.  _

_ Wouldn’t miss it for the world.  _

As Shiro smiled down at his phone (after checking the date once more, of course), he wondered what would happen if he made it through the party without kissing his best friend. Surely it would be easy tonight, with Keith bringing his boyfriend? 

It was the same kind of stupid rationale that made Shiro think he could see Regris again without feeling a stab of jealousy in his gut. 

They were late to the party. Fashionably so, but still enough to offer apologies when they arrived. Shiro felt confused, sure that he remembered Keith being early, but that was wiped clean the moment Keith shrugged off his jacket and momentarily exposed his hickey-riddled neck. 

Keith was just as quick to hide it again with his hair settling back in place, but. 

Shiro should have remembered that Keith and Regris’ relationship was short-lived, but.

There were a whole lot of ‘but’s tonight and none of them excused how the party dissolved. 

Namely, that Shiro’s battleplan of ‘ignore Regris, please don’t glare daggers at him’ meant avoiding Keith as well, who just wasn’t having it in the least. When Keith cornered him in the back hallway an hour in, demanding to know why Shiro was avoiding him, all Shiro could think was to blurt the truth -- that he was jealous. 

This Keith was the youngest yet of the two others Shiro had the pleasure of meeting, but he had none of the previous Keith’s hesitation. Still had a love of grabbing Shiro by the collar, though, and the equally delightful habit of mashing his lips against Shiro’s. 

As Shiro was shoved up against the wall for further, rougher making out, and his consciousness started to fade, he wondered which of them was the greater fool. 


	3. Chapter 3

The next jump was rough enough that Shiro woke with tears in his eyes and a pounding headache that pulsed from the back of his skull. He was wrapped in a tangle of uncomfortable, itchy bed sheets that he immediately struggled to pull himself from, fruitless as his limbs thrashed about. All he could think was how scared he was in this new location, how tired he felt from the constant jumps, and -- 

And all that fell away when he heard a voice from the corner of the room. 

“Takashi?” 

Shiro stopped in his struggle just long enough to look up and lock gazes with his grandfather, who sat in one of the few chairs arranged against the windowsill. Now that Shiro was awake, he stood up slow, obviously sore from the shoddy hospital furniture, and walked to Shiro’s bedside. 

“Good morning,” Ojiichan whispered as he pressed a kiss to Shiro’s brow, “and happy birthday.” 

Shiro closed his eyes tight, in a vain attempt to stop the tears, but they rushed forward now that he knew where he was. It was his 2nd birthday, which fell in the middle of his longest hospitalization yet. The doctors hadn’t figured out the exact cause of his muscle spasms yet, just acknowledged that they were already starting to accumulate in severity and that it was in Shiro’s best interest to be hospitalized for the time being. 

There was a soft brush of fingers through his hair and Shiro choked as the familiar smell of his grandpa’s cologne washed over him. The bottles were long since discontinued, and Shiro’s last remaining sample gone rotten, but Ojiichan smelled like a mix of cinnamon and coriander just as he remembered. 

“Do you feel well? Does anything hurt?” His grandpa asked. 

There was nothing in the world that would make Shiro send away his grandpa now. He reached blindly until his hand was able to grasp the old, scratchy cotton of Ojiichan’s favorite sweater and hold tight for fear he might leave. “It’s sore.” 

Ojiichan glanced down at Shiro’s thin arms and took the one that wasn’t holding on for dear life into the palm of his hand to massage. The IV lines were a tangle against his skin, clear tubing that held blood, fluids, and drugs, and had to be brushed away for Ojiichan to help Shiro at all. 

But his hands weren’t as steady as they used to be, and Shiro hissed with pain when one was accidentally pulled from his arm. 

“Ay-ya!” Ojiichan cried out at his mistake. Shiro opened his eyes to see his grandpa’s face warp with disappointment and frustration, but before he could offer any kind words, the older man was already moving away. “Do not move. I’ll find a nurse.” 

As an adult, Shiro could easily place the needle back where it needed to go. But one look at his clumsy childish hands and he knew he’d do more harm than good. 

“It’s okay, Ojiichan. I’m not hurt.” Shiro murmured when he saw tears glimmer in his grandpa’s eyes. 

But Ojiichan just patted Shiro’s head and left, talking to himself in soft Japanese that Shiro could no longer remember the meaning of. 

Not long after Ojiichan left in search of a nurse, the hospital door slid open once more. Shiro lifted his head in confusion, never knowing the hospital staff to work so quickly, and gasped with surprise when he saw Keith standing there instead. 

Keith was no child like Shiro; he looked just as he had on the night of Shiro’s 32nd birthday, right before he leaned up to kiss Shiro. 

“You found me.” Shiro whispered in clear awe. It earned a lopsided, almost guilty smile from Keith as he entered the room and stopped at Shiro’s bedside. The smile quickly faded to a clear look of distaste after Keith looked about the cluttered hospital room. 

“I’m sorry,” Keith said, “I tried to find you sooner.” 

Shiro curled up tighter into his bed, grasping the Luigia plush to his chest to offset the stiff, uncomfortable feeling in his limbs. His adult brain had a thousand questions but his current eight year-old body couldn’t think of any way to articulate any of it. All he managed to do was stare open-mouthed at Keith and his cool, unaffected demeanor. 

When the silence stretched on, Keith reached forward and ran his fingers through Shiro’s sleep-tousled hair. He was just as gentle as Ojiichan, which just made Shiro’s stomach lock up again. 

“Are you ready to go home?” Keith finally prompted. He almost looked surprised by Shiro’s clamped nature. Shiro was almost just as surprised, honestly. 

“I do. I want to go home, but,” Shiro paused, biting his bottom lip before asking, soft, “when we get back, are you going to leave?” 

The truth of it made the question hard to ask. 

The guilt in Keith’s gaze and the heavy way he sat on the bed made Shiro choke up again. His childish body wouldn’t allow him the control to stave off the incoming tears, which fell long before Keith managed to parse through an answer. 

“I’m sorry.” Keith repeated, sounding lost. “No one was ever supposed to know. Shiro, _ I can’t stay _ . It would go against everything I’ve been taught, everything my Mom has ever warned me about --” He shook his head when Shiro just made a small, weak whimper in protest, voice cracking as he blurted out, “I’ve already broken my promise once.” 

“No!” Shiro shouted. “I’ll keep it a secret, I promise! Anything you need me to do!” He sobbed, chest heaving as he pulled himself from his bed and grabbed at Keith’s shirt instead, as if he could hold Keith forever. “Please, Keith, please!” 

“Shiro, calm down.” Keith asked, his eyes darting to the hospital door. 

“You can’t leave! You just can’t!” Now Shiro really did feel like a helpless child, unable to control his childish protests as they fell from his lips, mixed with wracking sobs and hiccups that made his words stutter. The thought of Keith leaving him forever  _ hurt  _ in a way Shiro thought he would never experience, because --

Keith had promised to never leave him, right? 

But Keith refused to say anything more, quiet as he held Shiro until all his tears were shed and his chest didn’t ache so much. 

When Shiro pulled away from the embrace, he chanced a look up at Keith. It was clear that Keith was grappling with his own regret; the other man looked devastated with eyes glassy with unshed tears of his own and each breath came out shaky.

“Keith.” Shiro whispered. 

“Let me take you home. I can’t stand seeing you like this,” Keith answered, “so frail.” 

As Shiro settled back against the pillows, he realized what Keith meant. Just that little tantrum left him feeling light-headed, with his breaths coming shallow and quick. If he put his focus on the tips of his fingers and the bottoms of his feet, Shiro could feel the pain numbed by countless pain medications just waiting to flare up. He was sore. He was tired. And he was too young to be spending his birthday in a hospital. 

Shiro turned his attention to the food tray where Ojiichan had stood and found a single cup of strawberry Jello. He was suddenly too weak to even reach over and grab it, but Keith understood Shiro’s hungry gaze and picked it up to serve Shiro.

“I hate my birthday.” Shiro whispered before he ate the first scoop of strawberry Jello. “The nurses would always tell me how lucky I was to make it as far as I did.”

“I couldn’t have any cake when I was in the hospital. Even for my birthday. The sugar would mess up all my labs. So Ojiichan or Obaachan would ask for strawberry Jello.” The sugar-free variety wasn’t good but when compared to it’s lime-flavored cousin, Shiro would pick it any day. 

“They tried so hard to make me feel like I was normal,” Shiro sobbed, down to his final bite that Keith held steady for him. He chewed around it, letting the nostalgic taste sear anew in his mind. 

Cinnamon, coriander, strawberry.

A single candle in a Jello cup. 

A plushie that had the fluff burnt from a bleach bath. 

Lions on his cotton sheets. 

When there was nothing left but an empty cup, Shiro finally took Keith’s hand in his own. 

***

With Keith guiding their jump, Shiro wasn’t surprised that his head felt clear when he next opened his eyes. Still, confusion rather her cold finger down the length of his spine at the sight of another location, this one unfamiliar to Shiro. 

It was a small, warm house, painted in quiet lavender and smothered in cacti sitting in little painted pots. A quick look out the nearby window offered no help, as the rugged desert landscape was unfamiliar to Shiro except for scenes in old cowboy movies. He half expected to see a tumbleweed roll past, and was delighted when he saw his cat, instead, happily sunning herself on the porch. 

“Where are we?” Shiro asked. 

Keith shrugged as he went to sit on the nearby couch, ignoring Shiro’s mystified look to kick up his feet and pick up the still-steaming cup of tea on the table. “Home.” 

“But that’s impossible,” Shiro gaped, even as he turned away from his own cat, “I don’t even know where we are.” 

When Keith just took another drink of his tea, Shiro took it as an invitation to look about. There were several pairs of shoes at the entry way; all his favorite snacks in the fridge; his favorite cups in the cabinet; pictures of him and his friends on the mantle. It was as if all his belongings had been dragged into a different house, then mixed together with an abundance of cacti. 

Shiro was staring at a particularly floral one when Keith finally cleared his throat. 

“When I chased you through all those timelines, you must have changed something important. We were meant to return to your eight birthday. If this is where we landed, it is because your past changed.” Keith explained with a flourish of his hand. “So what did you do?” 

“I --” Shiro furrowed his brow at the unaffected look Keith was struggling to keep. Did he not know? Wouldn’t this Keith remember that Shiro had kissed him on two separate occasions? Or was that just his past, now? “You really don’t remember?” 

“Do you remember your original past, or what you did differently?” Keith asked instead of answering.

It took a moment, but when Shiro closed his eyes he could remember both timelines; both the faded, true past and the clearer version that involved kissing Keith a whole lot more. “Both.” 

“It’s because you were a guest in those timelines. You weren’t your true self.” Keith didn’t seem reassured by the face Shiro was pulling and huffed with frustration. “Listen, I can’t explain this shit at all. I barely managed to get anything out of my mom about our bloodline and even that was second-hand from what she learned from  _ her  _ parents. The bottom line is, I accidentally sent you back in time. I didn’t mean to.” 

“When we kissed?” Shiro asked, just to see Keith’s cheeks turn red. 

“It was --” Keith flushed even deeper when Shiro started to grin. He stood from the couch, abrupt, and stormed over to Shiro to grab him by the belt. It was meant to be intimidating, maybe, but it only made Shiro laugh. “We can’t control our powers when we’re emotionally charged. But it wasn’t one sided! You...you were thinking about going back in time, too, weren’t you?” Keith pointed out. 

Now it was Shiro’s turn to be bashful. “I was wishing we had kissed sooner, yeah.” But, wait, something didn’t line up. “I thought you had never met your mom.” 

Not that he wanted to be accusatory about it. But Shiro remembered long, quiet nights in their dorm room talking about how much they missed out by being orphans. Shiro had been raised by his grandparents after losing his mother and father to a car wreck. He was so young he honestly didn’t remember anything about them, but still mourned their loss and the opportunity to know the people who brought him into the world. 

Keith never knew his mother, and lost his father to a work-related injury that turned fatal. He had been in the system since he was seven. 

“I’ll meet her in a few years.” Keith said softly. “I’m...not exactly from this timeline either.” 

“You? But - we grew up together! I’ve known you since the academy!” Disbelief colored Shiro’s tone more than anything negative. But Keith’s guilty smile and pleading gaze left Shiro speechless. “Really?”

“After I met mom and got control of my powers, I went back one last time to see dad.” Keith explained. He moved away from Shiro to give them both space, and Shiro watched helplessly as the man he loved explained everything. 

“I went back as a kid, took over my past self in an attempt to save him. And I did, for a day. I managed to convince him to stay home and miss the call that I knew would kill him. It was amazing, Shiro. There were so many details about him I forgot as a kid that I could only truly understand as an adult. We ate ice cream and watched some terrible movie -- I don’t even remember.”

“For a moment I felt like I had a say in things. That I could really change everything.” Keith sat back on the couch and leaned forward, hands resting on his knees. It was like he was being physically tortured, having to retell all this. Shiro moved forward to stop Keith, to insist he didn’t need to know, but Keith just shook his head. 

“He died on the next call. I tried my hand at changing fate and all I bought was an additional 24 hours.” Keith laughed, wet and bitter. “Mom told me I couldn’t change the past and she was right. And that’s reflected here, now. You might not recognize this house but I do, Shiro. You just sped up time.” 

Before Shiro could say a single word, Keith was on his feet again and moving to the front door. 

Fear shot through Shiro and he finally jumped to action, one hand on the door before Keith could open it fully. “Please, Keith, don’t do this.”

Keith kept his head down and his expression hidden, saying soft, “In my original timeline, I failed that sim course.” 

“What?” But his scores had been amazing -- better than some of the full-grown pilots in the Air Force. 

Then it all clicked. 

“You knew all the tricks the second go.” Shiro whispered, disbelieving even as Keith turned to him and grinned, sly as a fox. “ _ Keith. _ ”

“I wanted to see where life would take me this time around. And by the time I realized what I had done, I didn’t want to leave. I had found my real family in our friends...in you. But I got caught. And if I stay, we’re going to have to worry about more than some weird time-bending shit.” To his credit, Keith took his hand off the doorknob and placed it on Shiro’s chest instead, pushing gently. It was clear that he had to leave for good just as he had stated back in the hospital. Despite that, there was clear hesitation within him, be it the tears gathering in his eyes or his wavering smile.

But Shiro didn’t want to let go, either. “I love you.” 

“I’m not going far.” Keith promised as a single tear fell. Shiro searched him for even a trace of deceit and came up empty. He was a fool to think that Keith would ever lie to him.

“Was the second life everything you ever wanted?” Shiro asked as Keith’s hand fell to the doorknob. The door opened to a warm, sunny day that did nothing to make the storm churning inside him dissipate. If anything, it pissed him off that the world didn’t match the mood. That it refused to acknowledge that everything was falling apart.

“Yeah,” Keith promised as he turned to face the rising sun. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” 

And then he was gone, the door sliding closed with a final, resounding click. 

Shiro stared at the door and it’s chipped red paint for two breaths before ripping it open and calling Keith’s name. 

The man ascending the stairs paused in his climb, ignoring the heavy bags of groceries in each hand to stare up at Shiro. 

“Shiro?” 

It was Keith, and yet not -- the Keith from this time, surely, though he looked different from the Keith that just left. His long hair was pulled into a lazy braid, and he wore Shiro’s leather jacket, a baggy black shirt, and what looked like Shiro’s favorite pair of gray sweatpants. There was a graceful, light ease to him that radiated clearly even though the groceries in hand looked heavy and his hands were so full he had to carry his keys with his teeth. 

Shiro blinked out of his confusion in time to rush forward to help, taking a handful of bags while Keith shouldered his way into the house. 

“Did you hear me come up the drive?” Keith asked once they were inside with the bags carefully placed on the kitchen counter for sorting. He said it so nonchalantly, like he hadn’t just seen himself exit the house -- which, now that Shiro thought about it, was probably the truth. “I need to look at the Jeep’s muffler again. I can barely hear myself think when driving into town.” 

While Shiro struggled with a response, Keith handed him the food that needed to be refrigerated. Shiro surprised himself by knowing each exact place to put it, despite never having a fridge this big or organized. “You didn’t have to go to the grocery store.” 

Keith turned and wrinkled his nose at Shiro, clearly mystified by his comment. “If I let you go we’ll only have protein shakes for weeks.” 

The head of lettuce in Shiro’s hands did look especially nice and fresh. He tried again, saying, “Having you around keeps me on track.” 

“Oh, is that why you married me?” 

It’s a joke. Shiro knows it. But it unfortunately comes the same moment Shiro is handed a jar of spaghetti sauce, so it slipped from his hands while he choked on air and the glass shattered in the blink of an eye. 

“Oh.” Keith reached for Shiro, their wedding bands  _ clink _ ing softly as Keith laced his fingers with Shiro’s. “Are you okay?” 

“Sorry, I guess I spaced out,” Shiro stepped around the broken glass with Keith’s help, then set about to find the vacuum while Keith tackled the spilled sauce. 

There was something off-putting to the layout of the house, but Shiro couldn’t put his finger on it as he rummaged through the kitchen closet in search of their handheld vacuum they had gotten as a wedding gift from Adam in years past. 

Any lingering feelings that Shiro was somehow displaced melted away by the time the kitchen was cleaned and put back together in time for some impromptu early lunch. Shiro was getting better at making grilled cheese (just a little burnt, as Keith liked best or so he claimed) and the house went from feeling hostile to feeling like -- home.

Keith watched him throughout lunch, almost like he was waiting for Shiro to jump up and announce something. But all he could think about was their full-day itinerary to celebrate his birthday. It would be just the two of them exploring the observatory and then getting dinner at their favorite diner, but that was fine since they were flying up to see all their friends just two weeks later. 

“When do you want to head out?” Shiro finally asked once their plates were empty and the hour near ending. He glanced at the clock above the door and did the math -- if they left now, the observatory would be open by the time they reached the city’s border.

“You that excited to go? We’ve gone every year since moving out here.” Even with the truth of that, Shiro just shook his head fondly to Keith’s answering laugh. 

“They’re doing a special Leap Year exhibit this time, though.” Shiro whined while Keith just gave him the  _ look  _ over his shoulder. “Doesn’t the birthday boy get to decide how he wants to spend his birthday?”

“You do sound eight right now.” 

Shiro just grinned with the knowledge that he was getting his way whether Keith teased him about it or not. “I’m your husband, Keith Shirogane.” 

“Yeah? I’ve got a suggestion for my husband, if he feels like being an hour or two late.”    
  
Whatever objection Shiro had died on his tongue the moment Keith walked over and climbed into his lap there at the table. The kitchen chair creaked in protest but Shiro felt like a god as he immediately went to cup Keith’s hips in welcome. Shiro meant to say something but that melted into a moan when Keith leaned forward and sank his teeth into the meat of his throat, hard enough there would be a bruise for days to come. 

“Keith, baby, you’re going to kill me.” Shiro whispered.

“I'll just rescue you again. Stay with me, darling.” Keith answered in turn as he let his bites trail down the center of Shiro’s body until he was kneeling between his legs. 

But it  _ felt  _ like the first time and Shiro couldn’t begin to grasp why. The answer lingered there at the corner of his vision, just out of reach, then gone when Keith nosed at Shiro’s cock through his jeans. 

Shiro groaned, loud and unashamed as Keith pulled his cock free. He was already making a mess but Keith was more than happy to lick it up, eyelids fluttering when he finally took Shiro’s cock into his mouth. The movement earned a yelp from Shiro, so sensitive he felt like he was going to cum in an embarrassingly short time just from the way Keith lay worship to him. 

“I haven’t seen you this worked up in years,” Keith panted against the overheating skin, obviously flattered but mystified too as he fisted Shiro’s cock and felt it actively twitch against his palm. 

Shiro was at a loss of words for it, honestly, stuck between wanting to watch Keith take him deep and closing his eyes to thank the stars. Keith made that decision for him when he nipped at the inside of Shiro’s thigh to catch his attention.

“Hey,” Keith grinned, his cheek pressed to the curve of Shiro’s thigh. His gaze, always so warm and full of love looked especially fond today, filled with a feeling that traversed time and space. 

“Happy birthday, Shiro.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Happy birthday, Shiro <3
> 
> Find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/FormSheith)


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